


Rewind, Reset

by NanoTwentyFaces



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Anthology Series, Drabble Collection, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, More relationship tags to be possibly added, Ozpin De-ages AU, Snippets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:47:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23019544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NanoTwentyFaces/pseuds/NanoTwentyFaces
Summary: When Ozma was given his task by the God of Light and reborn, the principles of his "reincarnation" were to be reborn with a new body, but instead of a new body every time he died, his body would de-age back to a younger one; a physical reset.But things are much different when after Beacon falls, Ozpin's body de-ages father than every before, to that of a child.A collection of snippets from Ozma/Ozpin's journey with this process (an alternate take to Volume's 4-7)
Relationships: Ozma & Oscar Pine, Ozpin & Oscar Pine, Ozpin (RWBY) & Everyone
Comments: 23
Kudos: 139





	1. Ozma is Reborn

**Author's Note:**

> So this AU came out of fun from thinking about Nora's comment in Volume 5 of Ozpin aging backwards to become Oscar. This is an anthology collection of how different things would be if that were the case. It will mainly go into the timeline of Volumes 4-7. The lengths of each chapter will depend on the event explored, so some will be longer, others will be shorter. 
> 
> (And yes, Oscar is definitely still present in this AU!)

“ _ Ozma _ …”

Ozma turned, the grand dragon form of the God of Light before him, slowly fading into his humanoid form. Though human-like, he still towered above Ozma, faceless and stoic. 

“Where….am I?” Ozma asked, taking a hesitant step towards him. 

“We are...between realms.” He answered. “I’m afraid a tragedy has befallen your home at the hands of my brother. We have chosen to depart this world, but in our absence I would like to offer you the chance to return to it.”

“I don’t understand….” Ozma muttered, shaking his head.

The God of Light paused, unmoving. “Mankind is no more. Yet your world remains, and in time your kind will grow to walk its face once again. However without our presence, they will be a fraction of what they once were.” He moved his hands, four items appearing, floating in a circle. “Creation, destruction, choice, and knowledge, were the ideals upon which humanity was made. Now, I leave them behind in the hope that you may learn to remake yourselves.” The objects came together into a ball of light he held in his hand. “If brought together, these four relics will summon my brother and I back to your world. And humanity will be judged.”

Judged? Humanity found irredeemable? Wiped from existence?

Ozma crashed to his knees. His words overwhelming, leaving a pit in his stomach, if he had a stomach in this realm? 

“Until your task is complete,” He spoke again, “you will continue to live. Your body undying, in a manner of speaking.”

“W-what do you mean?” Ozma finally spoke, looking up at him.

“You will have a new body. And you are by no means immortal. But you will continue to live no matter the cause.” That didn’t really answer the question. 

“I’m sorry, but…..”Ozma looked at the ground. “That world just isn’t as dear to me without her. If I may i’d rather return to the afterlife to see Salem. We can finally be together….”

“You will not find her there.” The God of Light folded his hands in front of him again. 

You mean she isn’t gone?” Ozma lifted his head, his chest alight. Everyone had been destroyed, so how could have….?

“Salem lives.” He said. “But I must warn you, the woman you hold dear in your memories is gone. Heed my words Ozma: where you seek comfort, you will only find pain. If you were to see her, you must see her with unswayed eyes, not with the sight that you desire. With that being said, will you-”

“I’ll do it!” Ozma answered. Salem is alive. She is alive, he can find her. Even whatever the God of Light said, she is still Salem, the woman he found love in, his true reason to fight. 

“Very well, our creation rests within your hands.” The God of Light faded, leaving Ozma in the empty space. As he faded, the world began to glow brighter and brighter in white, encompassing his body. He could feel himself becoming lighter, everything fading away. The slight twinge of fear lingered. The next time he awoke, it would be in a new world, one he would be responsible for.

  
  


_ And so, Ozma was reborn _ . 

  
  
  


Ozma opened his eyes. It felt like it had just been a moment. Like jolting awake from almost falling asleep. He gasped, inhaling a huge breath of air, his body rediscovering what it meant to be alive, his legs stumbling for a moment, finding the ground beneath him. He held a hand against his chest, feeling it rise and fall, his heart beating against it. He blinked, taking in the world around him. It was dark out, night. He listened, there were so many sounds. He was in the woods, there were people screaming, a glow in the distance, fire, a town, there were growls and the sound of running, the glow from the fire illuminating the area just enough, creatures of Grimm. Wait, Grimm? Grimm were supposed to reside only at the God of Darkness’ land by his black pools. Wait….how did he know that?

Everything was so loud, so much. He kept taking in deep breaths, looking at everything in front of him. What was happening in this new world? He looked down at his hands, they were covered in a pair of gloves, his arms bare, only wearing a tank-top, a green stone hanging around his neck, a pair of pants that flared with a zipper at the bottom over a pair of boots. He lifted his hands to his face and hair, running his hand through it. It didn’t feel like his hair. What did he look like right now?

A yell interrupted his thoughts. He looked ahead to see a man swinging a sword violently against a Beowolf before him. The Grimm growled, howling, and easily swatting the sword away, sending the man onto his back. The sword landed in the ground nearby. 

His body moved before he even thought. Like the sword was calling to him. He had to do something. Grabbing the sword, he charged at the Grimm before it could strike the man, in a flurry of smooth movements, killing it. He lowered the sword slowly as it dissipated. Strange...how did he do that? Suddenly, a hand was on his shoulder, turning him around; the man he’d saved. 

“Thank you!” He cried out. “You saved my life! Please, tell me your name. Who are you?”

Wait…...who was he? What  _ was _ his name? What was he doing here? His eyes widened, darting around, racking his mind for the answers. There was something there, yet nothing. Yes, there was a reason he was here. But, what was it? What happened? 

“I….” He threw down the sword, his hands beginning to tremble. He pressed a hand to his temple, squeezing his eyes shut. He stumbled on his feet again. He pressed harder against his head, not with both hands, opening his eyes. His head hurt trying to think. “I don’t know…..” He seethed out. 

He could feel the man looking at him strangely. Ozma finally lifted his head, watching him. Distant growls sounded behind them, making them both flinch. Quickly, the man grabbed his wrist. “We need to get out of here. Come on!”

Ozma nodded, silently, letting himself be dragged away by the stranger. 

“I-I’m sorry…” He uttered as they ran. 

“Hey, you saved my life, don’t worry about it!” The man responded, shaking his head. “Just make sure you know how to run!”

The man had taken them to the next nearby town; which later he’d told him his name was Ames. All the other survivors were there as well, gathered in the town square, searching for loved ones, tending to wounds. Ozma drifted around the square, taking in the sights of the town. It was early morning, the orange glow of the sun peeking over the rooftops. His head was still throbbing a little with a headache, a woman had kindly given him a cup of water, hopefully it would help. 

He’d taken to sitting in the shade of the well’s gazebo, holding the cup in his hands, staring into the reflection in it. He’d flinched back when he first looked. This wasn’t his face. He couldn’t remember who he was right now, but he knew that this wasn’t his face, what he looked like. He was supposed to have short brown hair, but it was white and a little longer. His skin was still dark, maybe a tad lighter than before. The most striking thing was his eyes; they were gold, instead of dark brown. As he concentrated on his reflection, he could swear he saw them glowing for a moment. 

“Hey!” He lifted his head, Ames waving a hand, running up to him. “There you are!”

“Sorry.” Ozma replied, setting the cup to the side. “I was just looking around a bit. Hopefully remembering something.”

“Any luck?” Ozma shook his head. 

“Well, don’t worry about it. Come with me.” He gestured. “I found a doctor in the main part of town to talk to you, since the others are all busy with everyone here. They might be able to help.”

“Alright.” Ozma stood up, following him. 

  
  


The doctor shone a light in his eyes, poking and prodding him all over, asking him a million questions, most he couldn’t answer. 

“Well, you don’t seem to have any injuries.” She stepped back, removing her gloves. “Can you tell me if there’s anything you remember? The last thing you remember before being in the woods with Ames?”

Ozma took a deep breath, folding his hands in his lap. “I….”

“Take your time.” She spoke assuringly. 

“I remember something white. No, somewhere white. And I...I wasn’t alone.” He began slowly. 

“There was someone else with you?” The doctor asked. “Can you describe them?”

Ozma blinked, pressing his lips together. “Horns….”

“A faunus?” She asked, peering over her clipboard.

His mind drifted. Like a muddy puddle, there was something there, many things there. He couldn’t make them out. His eyes flicked up to the doctor, her dress underneath a light purple. 

Purple

“Her….” He whispered, “A woman…..”

“A Faunus woman?” She prodded, leaning closer. 

“No!” Ozma shook his head. “Someone else, a woman. Someone important.” The puddle started to clear a bit, but everything was still blurry. 

“Was this woman in the place all white?” She asked, writing on her paper. 

“No.” Ozma answered. “She wasn’t.”

“A different memory then.” She muttered, quickly writing. 

“Do you have anything else to describe this place of white? Even the littlest thing?” Ozma shook his head again. 

How was it all connected? The place of white, someone with horns, a woman important to him, this new world, his face being wrong? His glanced down, taking to fidgeting with the stone around his neck. It’s bright green a comforting sight. Holding it in his hand felt familiar, just like the sword. 

He blinked. Lifting his head, his lips parting. It echoed in his head, through his chest. 

_ Ozma _

“Ozma….” He mumbled. 

“Hm?” The doctor looked up, Ames peering at him beside the table. 

“Ozma.” He said louder, sitting up straight. “My name is Ozma.”


	2. From the Tower to the Farm (Pt. I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fall of Beacon has shaken the world, but Oscar and his Aunt must carry on like normal being alone out in the countryside. But one night, a mysterious light brings an even more mysterious person to the farm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is split into two parts for the length and content. This chapter focuses more on Oscar~

Fire hurts. That was something he’d learned and experienced many times. Fire hurt  _ a lot _ . Especially when it’s your whole body being burned. Over the centuries and lifetimes, he’d become more wary and careful around the element. Of course, it was the favorite and chosen one for Salem’s maiden, Cinder, to be using. Just like that fire, Cinder was vicious and fierce, letting her power splay out all around them as they fought. She was skilled, that was to say for sure. But he was fast and he had his own magic, he could hold her off, she was still new to her powers, limited knowledge of their full potential. 

He’d underestimated her. He should have expected that one trained by Salem would be strong and dangerous no matter what. She’d only had half of Amber’s powers for a time, but that must have been enough for her to learn with until this moment when she had it all. If he landed a hit, she’d counter back with something even bigger. So when he landed the many thrusts of his cane into her body, slamming her back to the end of the corridor, she stopped herself, bursting a giant ball of flames around her that lapped at the walls and floor; burning the pods, and Amber’s poor body. The tendril flames licked at the floor and at his body, reaching to his end of the corridor. 

There was one thing he could do, charge back at her; who would have the stamina to withstand to the end. Slamming Long Memory into the ground he created his shield, preparing, waiting. She let out her blast, and he sprung forward into the air, straight into the blast. The two collided. He pushed forward, the heat seeping through the shield already, it crackling against the pressure, threatening to break. 

It’s not enough. The realization hit as the crackling became louder. The collision point of flame and shield growing in pressure, glowing brighter and brighter, beginning to drown out his vision in white. Even as the white consumed his sight, he felt the shockwave of the shield breaking, leaving his body numb for a moment, before the heat of the flames followed, devouring him whole. He could feel himself let out a scream of pain, the noise lost in the fiery blast. The flames made quick work of his skin and muscle, but luckily, as he’d also learned from times before, the pain only lasted but a few seconds before it was all over. Before his body succumbed. Everything being lost into the light once again. 

“Auntie?” Oscar, stepped into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. 

“Oh, Oscar,” She stepped away from the sink, slowly setting down a plate, her fingers slightly trembling, “I didn’t hear you get up.”

“Has there been anything? It’s been a few days…..” He sat down at the table. 

“No…” she shook her head, her eyes cast downward, “there’s been nothing since the CCT went down. The local channels haven’t said anything either still.” She took her own seat at the table, her face in her hands for a moment. “Gods….”

“The huntsman at Beacon could handle whatever happened, right?” Oscar started, brows furrowed in uncertainty. “I mean, there were so many there with the Vytal Festival happening.”

“I don’t know, sweetheart.” She reached across the table, taking one of Oscar’s hands. “Nothing like this has happened before. And there’s no way to communicate with the outside world. Local communications are barely working.”

“Should we go into town then?” Oscar asked, trying to stand up. “It might not be safe here with just us, there could be Grimm-”

She pulled on his hand, making him sit back down, taking a deep breath. “Worrying like that will only make things like that.” She lifted her eyes to him, more stern now. “We’ve always been able to handle ourselves. And until anyone can tell us more, it’s safer for us to stay here. We carry on like normal. That’s all we can do.”

Oscar watched her, pursing his lips. “Okay….” he finally said, nodding. “You should go get some sleep, it doesn't look like you’ve gotten much since then.”

She stood up, walking over to place a hand on Oscar’s head, running her hand through it. “How did I get such a sweet, considerate nephew?” She planted a kiss on his head. “I’ll be fine. Now, run along and wash-up, i’ll have some breakfast ready in a little bit.”

  
  


“You better have clean hands, young man!” Oscar’s Aunt called as he opened the front door, stepping inside. 

“Yes, Auntie!” He called back, unbuckling the straps on his gloves, slipping them off. He stepped into the kitchen, stopping as she swiveled around, apron tied around her waist, a big smile on her face. 

“Go on, sit down.” She pointed loosely at the table. “I’ve got everything ready.”

“You never told me what we were having for dinner tonight.” He took a seat, resting his cheek in his hand. 

“You eat whatever I make.” She smirked, passing by him, setting down two plates on the table. “But it’s a special occasion. So I’m certain you’ll like it.”

Oscar paused, looking down at his plate. His favorite dish. He raised an eyebrow at his Aunt as she set a candle down in front of him, lighting it. “What’s the occasion?”

“Even with all the commotion, I would  _ never _ forget my own nephew’s birthday.” She pushed the candle towards him. “With all that’s happened in the last few days though, I didn’t have a chance to make any kind of cake. But….make a wish.”

“I don’t even know what I would wish for.” Oscar shrugged his shoulders, staring into the flame. 

“Anything.” She took her own seat, crossing her legs, watching him. “It’s your wish. Whatever you want. But remember,” she held a finger to her lips, winking, “don’t tell me or it won’t come true.”

“Alright.” Oscar took a breath, looking back at the candle. Closing his eyes, inhaling, he leaned forward, blowing out the flame. 

“You wish for something good?” His Aunt smiled at him. 

“Yeah,” he answered, pushing his food with his fork, “well, I hope.”

“Guess we’ll see if it’ll come true then.” She tilted her head, taking a bite of her own. “Happy Birthday, Oscar.”

Oscar kicked at the dirt, walking back towards the barn, his hands in his pockets. Some birthday. Granted he never really paid much attention to his birthday, but it was always a good day with whatever his Aunt chose to do to celebrate it. This year it ended up being right off the back of a global catastrophe. He craned his head back to look up at the stars and moon. At least they were still nice to look at, even with all that happened. 

“I really doubt that wish is gonna come true….” He muttered, rocking back on forth on his feet. He dropped his head back down with a sigh. Taking his hand out of his pocket he reached for the barn door, tugging it open. He’d opened it a crack when he stopped. 

At the rumble of thunder. 

He looked over his shoulder, furrowing his brow. There weren't any storms predicted tonight. It didn’t even feel or smell like it was going to rain. He peered around at the sky and field, the wind had picked up just slightly. Turning around fully,he looked around out into the field, squinting to see anything in the pale moonlight. Could it be a Grimm nearby in the woods? Reaching inside the door, he grabbed at the first thing he felt, not taking his eyes off the outside. It was a shovel. Taking it in both hands, he stepped away from the door, slowly, listening. The rumbling hadn’t stopped. To be honest, it didn’t sound like thunder. It was lower, deeper, it gave off a pressure. It was like it was thunder coming from the earth. It wasn’t an earthquake. There were none in this part of Mistral, much less the ground wasn’t even shaking. 

Maybe he should go back to the house. If it’s a Grimm, maybe he shouldn’t try to take care of this one; just let it pass. But, looking as far out as he could, there was no indication of any Grimm. No glowing red eyes, yellow appendages, or shining white armour that usually gave them away in the darkness. He stole a glance up at the sky. No clouds in sight either, a completely clear sky tonight. Looking back down, he stepped into the grass. Fireflies flew all around, blinking lights as far out as he could see to the treeline of the woods. 

He blinked, squinting. One light was bigger. Far out in the middle of the field. It wasn’t white like the others. It was gold. And it wasn’t blinking. It seemed to be growing bigger the longer he looked at it. The pressure, he suddenly noticed, was growing, the wind picking up slightly again. His head darted around for a moment as the feeling continued to grow. The feeling this gave him he didn’t like. Something didn’t feel right. Goosebumps ran up his arms, a tingle at the back of his neck. In his glances around, he noticed that it looked like there were smaller golden light forming all around, moving with the wind towards the bigger one. He looked back at it, his breath hitching, grip tightening around the shovel. What should he do? Should he run? Stay? Get Closer?

His questions didn’t get to be answered as the light suddenly increased in brightness, surging, then dimming for a moment in eerie silence, only a millisecond later to burst and explode, sending out a huge blast and wave of pressure. Oscar dove to the ground as the light burst, covering his head with his arms as the shockwave passed overhead, the pressure rippling up through his body, making his teeth chatter. 

Pushing himself up, Oscar scrambled to look behind him. A small crater now laid in the field, the light just ever so shining out of the bottom, but dimmer. 

“Auntie!” Oscar called out, grabbing his shovel, pushing himself up, stumbling to start running back towards the house. But he stopped. He stopped at the sound of chimes, at least it sounded like chimes, the tingle at the back of his neck returning. Something telling him to turn around. Slowly he turned on shaky legs, looking back at the crater. Whatever this was, it wasn’t normal. There’s no way that was a Grimm. Was it a meteor? Did his eyes just play tricks on him and a star fell out of the sky? Was it some kind of agitated dust? 

Gulping, he stepped towards it. He held his shovel at the ready, flexing his grip the closer he got. As he reached near the edge, he craned his neck to see down inside. The light was dimmer now, but still pretty bright. It looked like it was taking a shape. Peering closer into it he could see….a human shape? With each second it became more clear, a human, sprawled flat on their back. Oscar had moved fully onto the edge, staring down in awe, his breath hitching for a moment. It was a man. As it continued he could see now, clothes and hair, and his body; all torn, battered…..burned. “What is……?” Oscar whispered, crouching down, placing a foot down into the hole, sliding in just slightly. 

The man wasn’t moving. Should he get closer? He jerked his head up at a growl. “Oh no…” 

A beowolf stood at the other edge of the crater, claws gripping the edges, peering down into the hole at the both of them, but mainly at the mysterious person. Oscar froze, where he was half-crouched against the wall. But then the Beowolf sprang forward, into the crater, straight for the man in the light. Gasping Oscar rushed forward, his body thinking before his mind, jumping over the man as he reached the bottom, swinging the shovel to hit the Grimm square in the face, batting it to the side wall. It snarled, shaking its head. Oscar raised the shovel up again, ready, stepping carefully over one step. The Grimm growled again, letting out a roar, running at him again. Oscar took several shaky breaths, re-angling the shovel as the the Grimm rose up on its hind legs to swing at him. With a yell, he thrust the spade of the shovel straight into the Beowolf’s exposed underbelly. He probably shouldn’t have shut his eyes, but thankfully when he cracked them open, the Grimm was dissipating into dust. His body sagging, he exhaled, dropping the head of the shovel onto the ground. 

“Oscar?!” His Aunt’s voice sounded. 

“Auntie!” Oscar turned, glancing down at the man on the ground, still covered in the golden light. “Over here!” He ran up to the edge of the crater, waving a hand up for her to see, then dropping back down to the bottom.

“Oscar, what’s going on?!” She ran towards him, her old rifle in hand, only brought out in emergencies. 

“I don’t know!” He called. “But there’s a-” He stopped as the light suddenly intensified behind him, glowing brighter. He turned, shielding his eyes at it. Finally it died down, dimming, then completely fading, only leaving the moonlight directly overhead for him to see now. He lowered his arms, blinking. 

“....man?” He whispered, looking down. Instead of a man, now laid a child. They looked about his age. The same clothes still laid on their body, now obviously loose and too big. But the injuries, burns and cuts, were gone now. He stood there, stunned, trying to process the sight before him. There was just a man there? Now a kid? 

He gasped as they moved, ever so slightly, a rasp escaping their mouth, eyes twitching. Oscar dropped the shovel, rushing forward to his knees, his hands hovering above them. “Hey, are you alright?” He rested one hand on their shoulder, the other near their hand laying across their stomach. 

They let out another strained noise, lolling their head to face straight up. After a moment, their eyes cracked open, just a sliver. Oscar could feel his breath freeze in his chest as, even though they were barely open, their eyes seemed to be glowing. 

“Hey,” Oscar found his voice again, “can you hear me? Who are you?”

They squinted at him, their face scrunching in pain, trying to move. Their mouth moved, but only strained breaths coming out. Then their body relaxed again, as their eyes slipped back shut, head falling back to the side. 

“Whoa, hey!” Oscar shook their shoulder. 

“Oscar?” Oscar turned, his Aunt at the edge of the crater. She stopped, slinging the rifle across her chest, onto her back, looking down into the crater, at him, and then at the unconscious boy behind him. “By the Gods…..” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! The next chapter will focus more on Ozpin in return, but still some Oscar (and his Aunt). 
> 
> Comments and feedback are always welcome!~


	3. From the Tower to the Farm (Pt. 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oscar and his Aunt must figure out what to do for the mysterious boy, whom is actually Ozpin, but there's one problem: Ozpin can't remember who he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second part of Ozma/Ozpin's arrival to Oscar's farm! This focuses more on Ozpin in mirror to Oscar last chapter~
> 
> Enjoy!~

“What do we do?” Oscar turned in his chair to his Aunt. Behind him, the young boy from the crater laid in his Aunt’s bed, still asleep,his breathing shallow. 

“Well,” His Aunt replaced the first aid kit under the sink in her bathroom, returning to the room, “he doesn’t have any injuries, at least not that I can see.” She took a seat on the edge of the bed, resting a hand against the sleeping boy’s forehead. “He’s starting to burn up. He should be looked at by an actual doctor, we have no idea who he is or how he got out there.”

She removed her hand, sighing. “And with the local comms as bad as they are, I can’t call into town. I’d have to go get Dr. Aurelia myself.”

“Wait-” Oscar shot up from his chair, “you can’t go by yourself. There could be Grimm everywhere right now!”

She stood up, pointing a finger at him as she walked by. “I can take care of myself, Oscar. And we can’t leave him here alone like this. Someone has to stay, and there’s _no way_ you’re going.” Oscar followed her out of the room as she slung her bag across her chest, grabbing the rifle from against the door. “I should be back by tomorrow. Just keep an eye on him until I get back.” She leaned down, planting a kiss on his forehead. “You understand me?”

“Yes, Auntie….” Oscar nodded, looking at the floor. 

“Good,” She pulled the door open, “If there’s an emergency, go to the Russet’s, you know the trail.” Oscar nodded again. 

“I’ll be back soon.” She shut the door, leaving Oscar in the house. 

~ ~

No matter how many times he’d experienced death, the pain was always unbearable. Whether it was a new kind of way to die, or something similar to one before. Sometimes it was slow and excruciatingly painful. Thankfully sometimes it was short and quick, the pain only being felt for a few seconds. Being burnt alive, he would put into a category halfway between there. While fire made quick work of a person, the burning of your skin, muscle, nerves, was one of the worst things ever. He was usually grateful once his body decided to finally shut down and die in those cases. But even as the flames consumed him this time, he could only regret in failure. The tower could not fall, but he has lost, failed to stop her, and failed to protect his school. That pain in his chest was far worse than the one all over his body as the white realm reached out to claim him once again. 

Everything was still in pain. The sting and burning all over his skin was unbearable. But he couldn’t move, or if he was even trying. The white turned to gold, shining brightly, but also warm. The warmth didn’t last long as the stinging intensified, but then waived. Like being submerged in water, everything felt like it floated and drifted. The pain became sharp and like pinpricks of needles all over. The golden light radiated stronger, and suddenly it was like falling up out of the water, and into a wall with a strong ringing that distantly sounded like chimes. 

Suddenly there was the moon. The poor, shattered moon looking down at him, or was he looking up at it? Why did that moon make him feel sad? Illuminated by the moon, there was something. Someone. A boy’s face. He was looking down at him. His lips were moving, and he must be touching him, he could feel it. But, he could feel everything hurt. Why did it hurt? He closed his eyes again. 

It was like a light switch. Off and on. The feeling of burning and then nothing. Sometimes it lasted longer. Others it was very brief. This time it was long, unbearably hot, heavy. But soon it was replaced with a cool feeling, batting away the heat, easing the pressure. The pattern continued for he didn’t know how long. Each time it left it was forgotten until it returned. 

Suddenly he realized he was looking at something. A ceiling. A wooden ceiling. Blinking, everything settled in. Something soft was underneath him, something heavy on top. It was comfortable. Blinking, he sucked in a breath through his nose, but his body must not have been ready for it as it ended up making him cough, turning to his side. He tried pushing himself up on his elbow to get a better look at the room. It was small, simple. He looked down at himself, noticing the soft garments he was wearing; a pair of light colored pajamas, pants and button up shirt. 

No sooner had he gotten a look around, footsteps sounded, someone quickly walking into the room. He looked up to see a boy standing in the doorway; dark mussy hair and skin, freckles, white shirt and tan pants with suspenders with bandages around his neck, and orange gloves. He must have spaced out taking in his appearance as the next moment he was closer, and a woman entering the room now. 

“Hey.” He snapped his head over at the boy now standing next to the bed. He flinched back further into the bed. The boy’s hand hovered on his shoulder, body hesitant, like one trying to approach a stray cat. “It-It’s okay. We’re not gonna hurt you.”

“Just give him some space, Oscar.” The woman moved a hand between them, pushing the boy, Oscar, back a step. She knelt next to the bed. “Now, are you alright? How are you feeling?”

He stared at the two of them, eyes snapping back and forth between them. He lingered on Oscar though, something about him. He squinted, tilting his head, slowly moving to fully sit up. The woman shifted the pillows for him to sit back against them, all the while he kept his gaze on Oscar. Oscar stared back, beginning to fidget where he stood, biting his lip. 

“Can you speak?” His eyes flickered down to the woman, she was staring at him patiently, but also expecting him to give her some kind of answer. 

It took him a moment, a couple of tries, opening his mouth, taking in a breath. Finally, something came out. It was raspy and quiet, but there. “Yes….”

The woman, smiled, letting out a sigh of relief, leaning back with a playful roll of her eyes. “Well that’s a relief. Here,” She handed him a cup of water. “You’ve been asleep for _awhile_ , you probably need it.” 

She had to help him hold the cup, keeping it steady in his hands, as they shook, trying to keep his fingers around it. It was like he was having to rediscover everything in his body. The water felt amazing against his dry throat. He took his time, slowly drinking. 

“Now then,” the woman set the cup aside once he was finished, “since you’re awake, and seeming to stay that way, I need to ask you a couple of questions.”

“O-Okay…” He said, gripping at the blankets. 

“There’s no reason to be scared.” She smiled, setting a hand on the bed. “My name is Emery, Emery Pine. And this is my nephew,” she gestured behind her at the boy, “Oscar.” He gave a small wave at him, an awkward smile. 

“Can you tell me _your_ name?” She asked him. “Do you remember what happened?”

He opened his mouth to answer, then stopped, furrowing his brow. Wait a second. What _was_ his name? What _did_ happen? It was like his mind was entirely blank. Who was he? What was he doing here? He shook his head, gripping at the blankets. “I-I don’t know. I’m sorry-”

“It’s alright.” She sighed, placing a hand on the back of his shoulder. “Do you have any idea? Anything about your family, where you might be from?”

He shook his head again. 

“Alright.” She stood up. “Just keep resting. I’ll be back with some food, maybe a little bit of time and that will help jog something. You must be starving.” She moved to the door. “Oscar, would you come help me, let him have some time to himself. I’m going to try and call Dr. Aurelia. Hopefully they’ve gotten the local signal a bit stronger.”

Oscar nodded, moving to follow her. 

“Oscar…” he started, making the boy stop, looking back at him. 

“Yeah?” He answered. 

“I….remember you. Outside….” He ran a thumb over the blanket, furrowing his brow hard, then relaxing, looking back up at Oscar. 

Oscar stiffened, moving a hand to rub the back of his head. “Uh-well-yeah, I found you out in our field.”

“Oh, I see…” he muttered. “I guess I should say “thank you”.” He tried to smile. 

“It’s okay.” Oscar’s mouth twitched at a smile, but kept its frown, moving to look at the floor. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not like we’d just leave you out there.” He rubbed the back of one foot with the other. “I-I should go-help my Aunt.” He hurried out of the room, avoiding his eyes. Once the door shut, he sighed, closing his eyes, falling back against the bed. 

  
  


Oscar set the vegetables on the counter. “So,” he started, keeping his voice down, “ _now_ what?”

Emery took a deep breath, cutting the vegetables. “I was able to get ahold of Dr. Aurelia, just barely. They took his picture back to town and passed it to the next one over, no one in either recognized him. The amnesia certainly doesn’t help now.”

“Do you think he’ll remember anything?”

“Hopefully.” She answered. “But these things are always unpredictable. He may, he may not. For now, we’re going to help him get back on his feet. Whatever happened to him was serious to be asleep for over a week and fever like that.” She set her knife down. “We’ll do what we can.” She smiled at him. “ _You_ saved his life. You did a very brave thing.”

“I know.” Oscar rolled his eyes. “You told me before.” 

“Well I have to!” She wrapped an arm around his neck, ruffling his hair. “Being such a strong, brave young man.” She released him. “You know your father would probably call that your rite of passage to being a man; risking your life to selflessly save someone else’s.”

Oscar lowered his head, peeking out from beneath his bangs. “Really….? It’s not really that big.”

“He’d be singing about it every day!” She waved the wooden spoon at him, hand on her hip. “When you were a baby, anything you did, he wouldn’t shut up about it for days!” Oscar huffed out a laugh, a small blush on his cheeks. 

“We’ll give him a few days or so.” She continued, retreating back to the subject. “See if anything improves with his memory, and we’ll go from there. Dr. Aurelia said they’ll keep trying to find anyone who knows him.”

“Okay.” Oscar nodded. 

“Go ahead and set the table.” She nodded behind her. “I’ll take a tray into him.”

~ ~

“So….” Miss Emery folded her hands in her lap in her chair across from him. Oscar sat beside her in his chair backwards, chin resting in his arms atop the chair. He sat on the couch, straight and still. “Any luck? Anything come back to you the past couple days?”

He squeezed his own hand in his lap. He didn’t want to disappoint Miss Emery. She’d been so kind to him. He had small feelings about things, but there was still nothing. Sighing, he shook his head. “No...I’m sorry.”

She was silent for a moment, watching him. Oscar gave him a look of sympathy. He bit his lip, trying to make himself smaller. He tried every minute of every day to rack his brain to remember anything, but nothing came. 

“I feel like there’s something….” He started, trying to rectify the disappointment, “I know there’s something there, but nothing definite….”

She blinked, eyes at the floor, nodding. “Alright.” She uncrossed her legs, standing up, “Well then.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Emery-”

“Don’t be sorry.” She held up a hand, cutting him off. “It’s not your fault.”

“I don’t want to be a burden by staying any longer than I have to.” He said, eyes, following her. “You’ve already been very generous in helping me.” He pushed himself off the couch. “If you can just give me the directions, I can make it to a town.”

“Oh-ho-ho, no.” She wagged a finger at him. “I’m not _that_ crazy to let someone your age and with no memory go off on their own like that. Besides, I already had the doctor of that town ask around, and they didn’t find anything.”

“Oh….” His shoulders sagged. 

“That doesn’t mean we’re just going to leave you to your own devices out there.” She reached into a nearby closet, pulling down a bundle from the top. “That being said, if you stay, you’d have to earn your keep around here.” She held out the bundle to him, a pair of clothes. “And I _could_ always use more help around on the farm.”

“A-Are you sure?” He asked, taking the clothes. “You don’t have to-”

“I’m sure.” She said, standing firm. “You can room with Oscar in his in the barn,we have a spare sleeping mat you can use. Should be comfortable enough.” She nodded over at Oscar. “And Oscar can show you around the place and show you the ropes.”

“I have a feeling I can’t say no…” He muttered. 

“You’d be right about that.” She said ,hands on her hips. “Now go on. Oscar, go show him your room.” Oscar got up from his chair, walking over. “And also, what should we call you then for the time being?”

“Oh-umm….” He hadn’t thought about that. 

“How about “Tip”?” Oscar spoke up from beside him.

“Tip?”

He gave an awkward smile, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s just the name of a character in the book i’m reading right now. Just the first thing that came to mind.”

“Sure.” He nodded. “Tip, then.” He cracked a small smile in return to Oscar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Next chapter will jump to some of Ozpin's time working on the farm with Oscar, and maybe finally remembering who he is~
> 
> Comments and feedback are always welcome!~


	4. Time Until

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oscar and Tip adjust to living with the other, and getting to know one another on the farm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of this chapter is told from Oscar's POV in a journal, of a few moments from the time they're together. 
> 
> Enjoy!~

_ Of all the things in my life to happen, I never would have thought it would be something like this. Having a mysterious person even more mysteriously show up where you live with no memory? It almost seems too bizarre to be real. During the time we had to wait for Tip to wake up, I went over what happened in my head a million times; trying to convince myself that what I saw…..what happened….was not right, wasn’t real. That I was just scared and thought I saw something else.  _

“So…..” Oscar set the sleeping mat down on the floor, turning to face Tip, “uh-welcome to my room,” Oscar spread out his arms, “I mean-I guess it’s  _ our _ room now…”

Tip looked around the room silently, eyes drifting over everything as he wandered in, before finally settling on Oscar. “Why is your room out here? It….seems a bit strange.”

“Ah, my Aunt’s house technically only has one bedroom.” Oscar rubbed the back of his head. “So, when I came to stay with her we just decided to turn the loft in here into a room rather than build a whole ‘nother one to the house.” Oscar kicked at the rug. “She also seems to think since i’m “becoming a teenager” I could use my own space.”

“Oh.” Tip hugged the bundle of clothes closer to him. “I hope i’m not invading that space.”

Oscar gave an absentminded shrug. “It doesn’t really bother me. It may just be an…..adjustment, to having someone else around.”

“That’s….understandable.” Tip seemed to look everywhere but Oscar’s eyes. 

“But-hey-” Oscar held up his hands, “don’t feel uncomfortable. It’ll be….something new for the both of us.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Tip nodded. 

“I’m- gonna go back outside,” Oscar awkwardly stepped past him to the door, “and get started on some stuff. You get set up and change-and uh take as much time as you need-i’ll be-uh-out there.” Oscar shut the door. 

_ Tip is weird in a lot of ways. I mean, in just a general sense, I don’t mean that in a mean way. I first saw him as a man surrounded in a weird light and then the next second he’s a kid, even younger than me. Dr. Aurelia said he seemed to be about thirteen. I mean he looks my age and is almost the same height, but at the same time something about him makes him feel older. There’s obviously something different about him, I just don’t really know what it is.  _

It was a while before Tip came outside. Oscar paused in his work at the sound of the barn door being pushed open. He could see Tip stumble a bit as the door jerked open, slipping out of his grasp, brushing himself off nervously. He looked up, spotting Oscar watching him, quickly brushing back his bangs, straightening. He remained in the doorway, stiff as a board as Oscar walked towards him. 

“Well…” Tip gestured to himself, “how do I look?” 

He looked like a completely new person. The clothes he’d been given were old ones of Oscar’s and some extra stuff Aunt Emery had in the closet. Some of those things obviously still a little too big even with Tip as close to age and size as him. White button-up undershirt, dark green overalls rolled up and sagging at the ankles, tan jacket overtop also rolled up on his forearms, dark brown gloves tied with some black string at the wrists, and a pair of reddish-brown boots. 

“Huh,” Oscar huffed out a laugh, “I almost didn’t recognize you.”

“Really?” Tip laughed back. 

“Yeah, seems like you’ve got some sense of style for yourself.” Oscar meant it. The new look had a sense of maturity to it, even with the sizing. It made Tip seem more….personable, astute. 

“Well,” Oscar reached over, picking up a shovel from the wall outside, holding it out to him with a smile, “better get ya’ started. I hope you remember how to use one of these.” 

“Yes,” Tip laughed, taking the tool, “I remember that at least.”

_ Despite the weirdness and no memory, Tip’s adjusted to living with us pretty well. Took some time to get used to having someone else in my room, it’s always been just me up in the barn. But, Tip’s pretty quiet most of the time. There’s a lot of times he’s just spacing out while we’re working or sitting in my-our room. He does like to read though, just like me, maybe even more. Whenever we’re done working he’s usually up in our room reading. It’s always stuff about Remnant. I guess he’s trying to use it to help remember something. But he hasn’t said he’s remembered anything. I feel sorry for Tip….not being able to remember anything about yourself, and there’s been no sign still of anyone around here knowing him. But despite all that, Tip’s definitely one-of-a-kind, and it’s been…..interesting...for us to get to know each other.  _

“Aw geez, what’d you do?” Oscar stabbed the pitchfork into the ground, walking over to Tip who was trying to pick weeds from the garden. 

“Huh, what?” Tip stopped, looking up at him over his shoulder. 

“Your jacket.” Oscar pointed. “Both sleeves are ripped.” 

Tip looked at each arm, turning them over, a big hole in each at the elbows, the white undershirt peeking through, now covered in dirt. “Oh….I think I tore them the other day when I fell from the loft.”

“What-you fell from the loft?!” Oscar jumped back. “And you didn’t say anything?”

“I was fine.” Tip turned to continue pulling weeds, shaking his head. “I was just trying to move some stuff and tripped backwards. No big deal.”

“Well,” Oscar huffed, “your sleeves are still ripped up. Come on.” He reached down, pulling Tip up by the arm. 

“I didn’t know you knew how to sew.” Tip said, shifting a little on the bed. Oscar sat beside him, sewing the patch of fabric onto the sleeve. 

“I don’t really.” Oscar cracked a smile. “But I can fix it up enough. Had to do the same for my pants. Now hold still, don’t want to stick you.”

Both fell silent again as Oscar continued to work, carefully pushing and pulling the needle through. Eventually, Tip broke the silence again. “So….has it always been just you and your Aunt here?”

“Yep.” Oscar answered, with a pop. “Just me and her. I was sent to live here with her, help her out around the place.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Awhile.” Was all Oscar said, nudging Tip to turn his back to him, working further. “Not to be a broken record, but what about you? Anything new?”

Tip’s shoulder slumped, exhaling. “No. Still nothing.”

“I know you look at all my Aunt’s books, anything in there familiar at least?”

“Can’t really say.” Tip answered, shrugging a little, earning a little nudge back from Oscar to stop moving. “So….where is your family from then? Where are they at?”

“Look, if you don’t get to answer any of my questions about yourself, then I don’t have to answer any of yours.” Oscar snapped, a bit harsher than he meant. Sighing, he cut the thread, putting Tip’s arm down. “There, all done.”

Tip bent and turned his arms all around, testing the stitching on the rainbow fabric now covering his elbows. “Thanks.” He turned, sitting sideways on the bed again, Oscar had turned away, putting the needle and thread back in its box in the nightstand. “Heh, we match now.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Oscar shrugged. 

_ Our conversations kind of went like that sometimes. But most of the time, things are alright. Tip’s really started to come out of his shell after a while. We’ve definitely gotten more comfortable with each other. He’s still not the best farmhand, but he still works hard and it is nice to have him around. Even though he can be a bit awkward and quiet most of the time, there are times it’s like he’s someone completely different.  _

“Oscar, did you hear that?” Tip stood up straight, his eyes drifting around. 

“No,” Oscar stood up himself, “what is it?”

“Sounded like something’s out in the field.” Tip answered, looking towards the treeline, the sun setting beyond it. “Grimm?”

“Maybe. Some pass by every so often.” Oscar swung his own tool over his shoulder. “We’re done for the day anyway, let’s head inside, Auntie Em should have dinner ready by the time we get everything put away and cleaned up.”

“Okay.” Tip followed him, his eyes lingering on the treeline. 

Both Tip and Oscar jumped from where they both sat in their room at the howl outside; distant, but bone-chilling. 

“Thought you said they’d pass by now.” Tip slowly stood up, peering out the window. 

“Might be a pack.” Oscar closed his book. “If we just stay inside we should be fine, they usually stay out in the woods. Think happy thoughts.” He shrugged. 

A loud thump sounded, making them jump again. “That doesn’t sound like they're in the woods…” Tip murmured.

Oscar set the book down with a huff. “No, that’s just the rooster trying to get back into the barn. He has a way of getting out, but then he can’t go back in through it. I swear I fixed that.” He shook his head, heading for the door. 

Tip followed silently, picking up the lantern. Oscar climbed down the ladder, taking the lantern from Tip, heading for the door. Pushing it open, Oscar walked outside, around the corner towards the back. Tip followed hesitantly, the lantern now the only light around them in the dark evening. 

“Hmmm..” Oscar frowned, the two of them finding nothing at the back. “Tip, go get the other lantern from the barn, I’ll keep looking around here, he may have wandered farther out.”

Tip nodded, jogging back to the barn entrance. The lantern should be at the back near the sink. Finding it, he picked it up, quickly lighting it with a match. He turned to head back outside when a rustling caught his eye behind him. Swinging the light around, he thought his heart stopped in his chest. 

There, sitting in a pile of hay, was the rooster. If the rooster was here….then what was outside?

Oscar huffed, setting down the lantern. “Where are you?” He’d looked up and down the back of the barn and both sides. Even stranger, the hole that the rooster always got out of had actually been fixed, just as he thought. 

The wind blew, chilly in the night air, rustling the tall grass of the fields. It made his skin crawl with goosebumps, and what he was finding out here wasn’t helping the feeling in his gut. 

“Oscar!”

He turned at the sound, only to suddenly have the wind knocked out of him as something barreled into his chest, tackling him to the ground. He gasped, scrambling to sit up. Tip pushed himself up from on top of Oscar, standing, on guard in front of him. Oscar looked past him, finding one of the most terrifying Grimm he’d ever seen. It didn’t have normal legs, like one long claw, too long for its body. It’s arms had talons at the end, a body skinny and disfigured, with little bits of white armour scattered amongst it. It’s head almost looked human, but a monsterous jaw, sharp teeth and tongue hanging out. It hissed, a crackling and clicking noise coming from it as it scrambled around against the wall of the barn, just a foot away from the lantern. 

Oscar felt frozen in place, the Grimm twisting and arching as it looked around. Why hadn’t it attacked yet? Slowly, Tip leaned down, pulling Oscar up by the arm. Oscar opened his mouth to speak, but Tip held up a finger to his lips, shushing him, then pointing at the Grimm. Oscar looked back at the Grimm, spotting what Tip had seen. Both its eyes had long gashes across them. It was blind. 

Tip softly pushed Oscar, urging him to start moving back around the side of the barn, moving slowly beside him. It wasn’t quiet enough though, the Grimm’s head snapping to them, growling. 

“Go!” Tip pushed him harder, the two of them breaking into a run. They’d made it to the doors, Oscar quickly moving to push it closed. The Grimm, right behind them though, caught it itself in the space between, clawing at them, trying to squeeze its way through. 

“Oscar, up the ladder!” Tip yelled, grabbing a pitchfork, swinging it at the Grimm, as Oscar moved away from the door. 

Without Oscar though, the Grimm pushed back open the door easily, pouncing for Tip as he tried to follow Oscar. Tip turned, swinging the pitchfork again, only for it to be knocked out of his hands and himself knocked back behind the ladder into a pile of hay as the Grimm swerved around hitting him with its tail. 

“Tip!” Oscar called from the loft, skirting around the edges, trying to find anything to help. The Grimm’s head snapped up towards Oscar, giving an inhuman screech, only to turn its attention back to Tip as he sat up in the hay pile, groaning. 

Tip gasped, the Grimm looming closer. He reached over, grabbing the closest thing he could find, as it ran at him, jumping. Tip held up his arms, stopping it, a trowel having been grabbed, shoved in its mouth, stopping its teeth from biting him. It pushed hard against his hands and the trowel, screeching and squirming. Grunting, Tip pulled the trowel from its mouth harshly, sending it off balance, turning the tool in his hand, stabbing the trowel into the side of its head, pushing it away. 

It gave an even louder screech, making Tip cover his ears, curling in pain. The trowel stuck out of its head, the Grimm stumbling around, trying to shake it. Rearing back, it prepared to jump again, Tip scrambling to get up and move. 

BANG

Just as it moved to jump, the shot rang out, and in a second it fell to the ground, already crumbling to dust. Tip sagged, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. There in the doorway stood Auntie Em, rifle in hand, still smoking from the shot. 

_ I’d never seen Tip that way. Serious like that. He’d never even faced a Grimm in the time he’d been here. If there ever was one, I took care of it far out in the fields and usually just something small. But that night, Tip faced it without any fear, at least not any that I could see. Auntie Em had us spend the night in the house for the next couple of nights in case there were more like it. Seems like just when we think we’re figuring each other out, something new happens…... _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Next chapter will start diving into more plot-related things. Unfortunately, I had to cut a part from this chapter that will appear in the next one though! 
> 
> Comments and feedback are always welcome!~


	5. Interlude I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tip is already a mystery to Oscar. But, especially in the terms of nightmares and night terrors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally going to be in the previous chapter "Time Until" but with the way the writing flowed for it, it didn't make it in. So, I made it into it's own two-part mini chapter, while I work on chapters for another story~
> 
> Enjoy!

_ It’s a bit strange how similar Tip and I seem sometimes. Auntie Em has made a few jokes sometimes about her having a pair of twins as nephews. Like Tip is my long lost sibling, and even more so when he showed up the eve of my birthday. Like I said before, it’s been interesting to get to know Tip more, and there are times where it’s like he’s someone completely different. And usually…..that time is at night. _

Oscar blinked awake. It was still dark, pitch-black in the room. It must be the middle of the night, the moon on the other side of the barn, making it this dark. He could hear the bugs, crickets, and frogs outside, the stars twinkling in the clear sky. Shifting, he inhaled a breath through his nose, curling back into the pillow. He still had plenty of time left to sleep, and he wanted to. 

He’d closed his eyes again, letting sleep come back to reclaim him. He was almost asleep again when a noise pulled him back out. It gave him that feeling of falling and then jerking back awake; which he hated. Blinking, lifting his head, he looked into the darkness of the room. 

He waited. 

There, again. The same noise. It sounded like something moving. Propping himself up on an elbow, he squinted. It must just be Tip moving in his sleep. He moved to lay back down when the noise only increased, now he could hear breathing; short, shaky breathing. Sitting up fully, he looked over where Tip’s sleeping mat was. His eyes adjusting to the dark, he could just see Tip’s sleeping form; shifting and moving a bunch under the blanket. 

Oscar watched, waiting, debating if he should do anything. Maybe it would pass, but maybe it’ll worsen. The latter won out, as it only increased, now it sounded like noises of pain coming from Tip. Reaching over, Oscar quickly lit the lantern on his nightstand, illuminating the room. Now he could see Tip fully. He was flinching and shifting under his blanket, head lolling back and forth, face scrunched up in what looked like pain. 

“Tip…” Oscar knelt down beside him, a hand hovering above him, “hey….”

He took the chance, resting the hand on Tip’s shoulder. Immediately Tip’s eyes shot open, rushing up with a loud gasp. 

“Whoa, hey, hey,” Oscar kept his hand on the front of his shoulder, his other hand reaching across his back, steadying him, “Tip…”

Tip heaved shaky breaths, staring out ahead blankly. He waited, letting Tip catch his breath, feeling his body slowly relax under his hands. 

“Are you okay?” He finally asked, quiet and low. 

Tip blinked, flinching, as if not noticing that Oscar had been there the whole time. “Huh?”

“You were having a nightmare.” Oscar started slowly, watching his face. 

“Oh…” Tip’s eyes fell, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, “yeah...I was.”

Oscar removed his hands. “Do….do you want to talk about?”

Tip’s eyes continued to search the floor, his hands in his lap. “No.” He finally said. “I honestly don’t even remember what it was about.” He shook his head. “Sorry, I woke you up. You could probably go back to sleep, i’ll be fine.”

“If you say so…” Oscar stood up, keeping his eyes on Tip who continued to fidget with his hands, sitting up on his sleeping mat while he walked over, extinguishing the lantern. 

_ Every so often, it happens. Tip has nightmares. But, every time, once he wakes up, he’s completely forgotten what it was he was having a nightmare about. He’s shaken for awhile after it happens and then is fine. It’s a running trend with his memory. Can’t remember who he is. Can’t ever remember what he has nightmares about. I’ve tried talking to Auntie Em about it. She says that it’s probably normal for right now, he may be having nightmares about what happened to him but his mind is blocking it out. Apparently that’s something people with trauma may do. If that’s the case….I feel even more bad for Tip.  _

_ Sometimes it’s more than just nightmares though…… _

_ There’s been a few times I woke up and he’s just sitting up and staring out into space. And one time…… _

“Tip…?” Oscar asked, coming out as a whisper. “....what are you doing?”

Tip, stood in front of the nightstand, staring out the window, silent. Oscar slowly pushed himself up, keeping his eyes on Tip’s form. The moon in the sky was still on the east side of the barn, shining through the window so he could somewhat see Tip. Tilting his head, Oscar searched Tip’s face. It was blank, but in a way, focused. 

“Tip?” Oscar asked again. 

Tip’s eyes seemed just as blank. Oscar could just see the moon reflected in his eyes, what it seemed like he was focused on. 

“This isn’t what he asked me……” Tips lips moved, just barely a whisper. Other words too jumbled to understand. 

“Tip…” Oscar carefully moved, reaching out a hand to grab his wrist. As soon as his fingers wrapped around it, Tip shifted, blinking, almost like he’d been sleepwalking and woken up. 

“Why am I-?” He looked around, eyes falling to Oscar and his hand around his wrist. 

“Oh-sorry,” Oscar let go, sinking back onto his bed, “I-uh-I think you were sleepwalking.”

“Oh.” Tip sounded, looking. “Sorry. I didn’t think that was something I did.”

Oscar shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Just-,” Oscar swung his legs up onto his bed, laying back down, “-just try to go get some more sleep.”

_ It was just that one time that happened, never again, at least so far. It was kind of freaky. I couldn’t understand at all what he was mumbling while standing there. I don’t want to bother asking him about it, he seemed embarrassed enough about it. I’m just not sure what’s up with him for all these things to happen. And he won’t talk about it either. Granted, he can’t remember them to talk about them, but shouldn’t there be something that could be done to stop them or make them happen less often? For now, all I can seem to do is make sure he’s okay when they do happen.  _

_ But, who am I really to criticize him, when it seems like I can’t take my own advice on it….. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the chapter of Ozpin regaining his memory is pushed back for these two mini-chapters and while I update another story, but it will be coming. I wanted to make to sure to get this time between Oscar and Tip/Ozpin in the story. Next part of the mini-chapter will be similar if you caught the hint in this one ;)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed. Comments and feedback are always welcome!~


	6. Interlude II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Tip is a mystery to Oscar, in some ways Oscar is equally a mystery to Tip. In the similarities still lies some unknowns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are finally back on track with writing! I must express my gratitude for the patience with this story. While this chapter is short, another will follow to set up the final stage for Ozpin regaining his memory. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_ Living on a farm isn’t so bad. The work took time to get used. Rising early isn’t an issue. Oscar and his Aunt are welcoming and kind. And it feels like i’m learning many things. Well…..except about myself. I don’t understand why I can’t remember anything. But it feels like I do remember at the same time. Like i’m on the cusp. Standing on the bridge between two islands. I can see each on the other end, but I just can’t reach the one i’m trying to get too, like the bridge keeps getting longer and I never move any closer.  _

_ I must be reading too many of Oscar’s books, listen to myself. But maybe that’s how I do talk.  _

_ Speaking of Oscar, things have been becoming a bit…..strange….between us. Guess we’ve hit our first hurdle of being- _

_ -family? _

_ -friends? _

_ It’s been becoming much more apparent and more than often that I have nightmares or even sleepwalking. I know i’m having them, but every time the moment I wake up, it’s gone. Not a single memory of what it was about, just the dreadful feeling that it brought. Oscar has asked me to talk about it, but I can’t really. What if it’s something about what I can’t remember? Or maybe….maybe it’s that I don’t want to remember the truth anymore, i’ve become so content here with Oscar and his Aunt. Even though I barely know them.  _

_ Especially Oscar. It’s strange that I feel like I know Oscar with my whole being, but then there’s things that surprise me and make me ask questions.  _

Tip rolled back over onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. It was one of those nights where he couldn’t quite sleep. If it wasn’t nightmares, it was not being able to fall asleep. Something unknown ate at his mind while he slept, and now something itched at the back of his mind as he laid awake. These nights all he could do was just lay and wait for himself to eventually doze off from exhaustion, or the sun to ready them both for the day. 

Sleep finally won, but was short-lived. Tip awoke with a sharp gasp, his head snapping back up towards the ceiling. His heart pounded, but not in the same way when he had nightmares. And he knows he didn’t have a nightmare. The phantom blurred memory was not there. So what had woken him?

Taking a moment to listen, he raised his head, rubbing at his eye. Looking around, he blinked in the darkness, through the moonlight streaming into the room. Oscar was awake, sitting up in his own bed. As Tip continued to watch he could see he was holding something. The patterned rainbow cloth he always had in his pocket. He sat with it in his hands, thumbs rubbing at it, while he seemed to just stare down at the bed. 

Tip sat up fully. “Oscar?” He called out, quietly.

Oscar didn’t answer, just continued to stare down at the bed. 

“Oscar.” He called louder. 

This time he heard him as his head snapped up and over at him. Tip didn’t miss as he seemed to pull the cloth in his arms closer to his body when he did, almost like to hide it. 

“Oscar….” He started carefully, “is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Oscar answered, his eyes looking everywhere but him, “I’m fine.”

“Why are you awake?”

“No reason, just woke up. Sorry if I woke you.”

“No,” Tip shook his head, “I wasn’t really sleeping that much.” 

“Well, try to get some sleep.” Oscar laid back down, turning to face the wall, his back to him. 

_ It happened every so often, and for a week or so, it became almost an everyday  _

_ thing. I’d catch him staring off into space, or staring at that cloth, holding it close in his hands. I don’t want to pry, and from the time i’ve been here i’ve learned that when it comes to personal questions, Oscar is not too keen to answer. I wouldn’t have worried, if it hadn't gotten worse.  _

Another nightmare. Tip awoke with a start, gripping at the blanket. It had only been a short one, and already gone. He took a deep breath, holding the blanket close in his grip. As his heart and breathing settled, the lull of sleep was pulling him back under. That is until a noise yanked him back out. His eyes moved towards the source, turning his head slightly. 

Oscar pushed himself to sit up in his bed. Tip watched from where he lay as Oscar wiped at his eyes with the palm of his hand, quiet sniffles echoing in the room. He sat there for a few moments, staggered breathing and wiping at his face. Tip continued to watch with a small ache in his chest as Oscar took out the rainbow cloth once again, holding it in hands close. After a minute or so he laid back down, the cloth held close on top of his chest; heavy breaths and sniffling, until finally they ceased as he must have fallen back asleep. 

Closing his eyes, he let the pull of sleep come back. 

For the first time, he actually awoke before Oscar. Getting Oscar up actually was a bit of a test as it took Tip a few tries to actually get him to open his eyes and wake up. He barely spoke for most of the day, moving through their work with distant looks and tight knit frown. Either Auntie Em noticed and it was something to just let pass, or there was something going on with Oscar even she wouldn’t ask about or acknowledge.

A night of storms seemed fitting for when it happened. The sound of rain on the roof usually helped Tip sleep a little better, but thunderstorms meant thunder and lightning to snap him awake at any given moment. Groaning, Tip peeled opened his eyes at the rumble, wincing at the bright flash of lightning that came through the window. Pushing himself up, he threw the blanket off, standing up. Surely Oscar wouldn’t mind if he shut the drapes just a little. Just enough to block out most of the lightning. 

As he approached the window another rumble and flash streaked across the sky, lighting up the room. Stealing a look in the brief light, he turned his head to look over at Oscar in his bed. He stopped, watching. Oscar’s eyes were shut tight, scrunched in what looked like pain. The blanket was in a death grip as Oscar shifted and moved underneath. 

He wasn’t sure what to do. His mind had gone blank, seeing Oscar like this. The shoe being on the other foot now. It only got worse as Oscar’s head lolled back and forth, brow furrowed in what seemed like sadness. His breathing shuddered and staggered, small whimpers coming out as then tears began to fall down the side of his face. 

“Oscar.” Tip finally found the will to move again, moving closer to the bed, a hand hovering over him. “Oscar.” He called again, resting the hand on his arm. 

He didn’t wake up. The tears only pooled faster and stronger as Oscar’s hands lifted up to grab at Tip’s arms. 

“Oscar?” Tip sat on the edge of the bed, taking hold of Oscar’s other arm, giving a gentle shake. “Wake up.”

Finally, Oscar opened his eyes, blinking, shooting up where he sat. He wrestled in Tip’s grip, yanking his arms out while pushing Tip away. 

“Get off of me!”

Tip stumbled off the bed, hands held up in front of him as Oscar settled down.

When Oscar didn’t move or say anything, he carefully leaned over to the nightstand, taking the lantern and turning it on. Grabbing it, he moved back towards the bed, setting it at the end of the nightstand. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, tilting his head, trying to see his face, or get any response.

Oscar didn’t answer for a moment, turning his head away and wiping his eyes 

furiously. 

“You were having a nightmare.” Tip took another step. “Sorry, I thought I should wake you up.”

“I’m fine.” Oscar finally said, turning his head towards him. 

“Are you sure?” Tip asked. “Do you need to talk about it?”

“No….i’ll be fine.” Oscar said, reaching over, turning off the lantern, and laying back down his back to him. “You can go back to sleep.”

Tip just stood there for a moment, the thunder still rumbling outside. “If you say so…..”

_ I haven’t the faintest idea of what could be giving Oscar nightmares. Whatever it is, it must hurt him a lot. But he won’t talk to me. Maybe he just doesn’t trust me enough with whatever it is. I am still a total stranger. Hopefully there is something I could do for Oscar. I can’t talk about what causes my nightmares as I can’t remember them. But whatever causes Oscar’s is there, and he won’t speak it.  _

_ There can be many reasons why someone wouldn’t want to talk about something  _

_ that is deep in their heart. I hope there could be something I could do to let him open up. While I don’t even know who I am, and have only been with Oscar a short time, it feels like i’ve known him for a long time…….. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, originally the source of Oscar's own nightmares were to be revealed in this chapter, but that has been pushed back to the next chapter as to allow for a more direct parallel to "Interlude I", the previous chapter. We are nearing the time of Ozpin regaining his memory and the real plot begins~
> 
> Hope you enjoyed. Comments and feedback are always welcome!~


	7. Interlude III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The words said in the night leave some shaken ties. Eventually, the true words needed to be said will come out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final interlude chapter to lead us into the time of Ozpin's memory regain!~

“Is everything alright with you two?” Auntie Em gathered up her empty plate from the table. “You’ve both hardly said a word tonight.” She raised an eyebrow at each of them.

Tip blinked from where he’d been pushing the vegetables around on his plate. He stole a look over at Oscar, who did not return it, instead still glowering into his own food. He wasn’t sure what to say. 

“Yeah, we’re fine.” Oscar spoke for him. “Just been a long day.”

“I know it’ll be time for harvesting soon.” She kept clearing the table. “And even though you two are my helpful farmhands, I certainly wouldn’t want you overdoing it. I don’t need two sick boys on my hands.” She wagged a finger at them. 

“O-of course, Auntie Em!” Tip gave the best smile he could manage. 

“Good.” She smirked. “Now finish your dinner you two.” She softly ruffled each boy’s hair passing behind them. 

Oscar still said nothing as they finished dinner, now lighting the lantern for the walk back to the barn.. Tip waited by the door, leaning against the frame as they bid Auntie Em goodnight. For a headstrong and commanding woman, Emery Pine was just as sweet and loving. 

He watched as she hugged Oscar and kissed his forehead, same as every night. It relieved Tip a bit to see Oscar at least smiling a little at that. Ever since the other night with the nightmare, Oscar was barely talking to him, and seemingly in a bad mood. And Tip has no idea how to remedy it. 

His eyes followed Oscar, as he grabbed the lantern, opening the front door. Still not a word was said, not even looking at him. Pressing his lips together, Tip pushed off the wall to follow him. 

“Tip, wait a minute.”

“Huh?” He stopped, looking behind him. 

“Oscar, wait outside for a minute, dear.” Auntie Em said, “I need to talk to Tip.”

“Sure.” Oscar said, stepping outside and closing the door. 

Tip furrowed his brow. What in the world could she want to talk about? Was it about his amnesia? Could she tell what was going on with him and Oscar? What if she’s mad?

“Tip, come here.” His back stiffened. Biting his lip he turned around slowly, tugging at his gloved fingers. 

“Y-yes?” He stepped forward. 

Her arms were still crossed, an eyebrow raised at him. But it softened after a moment, her arms dropping. 

“Don’t think I didn’t see what was going on tonight.”

“Um….” He didn’t know how to respond. How much does she know?

“I know you boys have your secrets together.” She continued. “But that doesn’t mean it’s going to get by me that something is wrong.”

He rubbed the back of his hair, looking at the floor. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off. 

“Oscar’s not really been one to talk about things. So don’t take it the wrong way if he’s not talking to you about something.” 

“But it might actually be my fault.” Tip said, shrugging his shoulders. “When I was just trying to help like he’s done for me.”

Auntie Em laughed softly. “I keep saying that you two are like two sides of the same coin.”

He tilted his head at her. She just put a hand on his arm, the other coming up to pet his hair. He flinched away at it for a second until it settled on his head, gently. 

“I’m all for you two learning to be independent, it’s a good thing, but that doesn’t mean you have to do everything by yourself. You’ll always have someone to be there and help.”

Then she leaned forward, bringing his head closer, a small kiss on his forehead. He was bewildered. Of course she noticed as she pulled away, smiling at him. “I have my dear nephew, and despite how you came here, you’re just as much family.”

The walk back to the barn was silent. More so from Tip thinking about Auntie Em’s talk than the grazing emotions between him and Oscar. As usual, Oscar went straight to their room without a second thought. Instead of following, Tip lingered on the ground floor of the barn, the door open so the moonlight streamed in, illuminating it. Part of him wondered if Oscar would even notice. His question was answered as Oscar just went up the ladder, closing the door to their room. He stayed down there for a while; pacing, sitting in the hay piles, looking in the mirror, standing at the door looking out into the fields. 

The fields. 

His gaze lowered to look at them straight on, the grass far out having grown a bit high. It rustled in the breeze. He pressed his lips together, inhaling a deep breath. 

Tip had been going missing at times. Despite not talking to him for several days now, that didn’t mean Oscar didn’t notice how strange he was acting. He wasn’t trying to alienate Tip, he just didn’t want to talk. And he didn’t hear at all what Auntie Em had talked to him about the other night. No matter how much he wanted to, his conscience knew better than to eavesdrop like that. It didn’t matter if he was upset. 

For the first couple of days after their little nightmare incident, Tip hovered around him awkwardly. Now he was being distant. A bit too distant. The night that Auntie Em talked to him he didn’t even come up into the loft with him. He finally did a couple hours later, while Oscar pretended to already be asleep. Now that was becoming more frequent. Tip would either not follow him to their room, or he was following him but then sneaking out soon after the lantern was put out and they were to go to sleep. 

He wanted to ask, but a small part of him also didn’t want to ask. 

It finally hit him when after another night, after the lantern was extinguished, and the sound of the door opening and closing hit his ears. Immediately, he sat up, looking to Tip’s sleeping mat, and then to the door. He was leaving a lot quicker as time had gone by. Huffing, Oscar threw the blankets off, putting his boots back on. 

Stepping out of their room, he could see Tip just in distance, walking out into the fields, the spare lantern in hand. Sighing, he turned around, grabbing the lantern off the nightstand, dropping down the ladder. 

  
  


The poor shattered moon. The poor shattered moon looking down at him, and he looking up at it. The stars scattered all around it across the sky. He briefly wondered if some of those closer to the moon were actually just more remnants of it. It was a mystery. A mystery, just like him. They each looked at the other closely, each trying to decipher the other. But neither could give answers or a clue. The past lost to time. 

He just kept staring, hands folded across his abdomen, feeling the ground beneath his back, laying in this old crater. Smelling the dirt around him. The crickets chirping and grass rustling above and all around above him. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, just for a few moments. The same line of thoughts and thensome running through his head again. 

The dirt around his head shifted, just ever so slightly. There was a stronger light near. He blinked, opening his eyes. 

Illuminated by the moon, and a lantern in hand, Oscar was looking down at him. He flinched, eyes widening, as he blinked up at him. 

“What are you doing out here?” His expression was a bit hard at first, but Tip could tell it was swiftly softening. 

He didn’t answer, eyes flitting away for a second. 

Oscar sighed, stabbing a shovel that was in his other hand into the dirt. “Is this where you keep going? You know there could be Grimm out here.”

Tip sat up, so that Oscar was now behind him. “I put out the lantern by the time I get out here, and just think happy thoughts.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.” Oscar said, stepping around to his side. 

Tip crossed his arms, twisting away. “Look, if you won’t answer any of my questions, then I don’t have to answer any of yours.”

Oscar opened his mouth to speak, but closed it, looking down. He didn’t know what to say now. All he could think to do was leave. He moved to grab the shovel. 

“Oscar…”

He stopped. 

Tip still had his back turned to him, but his arms were uncrossed. He turned his head just enough to see part of his face. 

He could tell he wanted to say something. It tugged at his chest. Setting the lantern down, he slowly dimmed it until it was just barely lit still. Walking back over, he sat parallel to Tip, his back to him. Taking a breath, he lowered himself to be laying on the ground. Silently, Tip followed, so now their heads were right beside each other. 

“Tip uh…..” He wasn’t sure where to start. 

“I’ve tried everything.” Tip started in almost a whisper. “I’ve really tried everything I can to remember who I am and where I came from. There’s always been something there just as the edge, but I just can’t reach it.”

“You’re hoping this place could help…” Oscar finished. 

“This is the earliest memory I have.” Tip replied. “My first memories I can recall are of this- staring up at the moon in this hole…..” He paused. “....with you above me.”

Oscar’s head turned to look at Tip. 

“You...you remember that night?”

“Yes.” Tip nodded. “Even though it’s short, it’s the most vivid one I have.” His hand reached up absently towards the sky tracing the air for a moment. “You found me, and helped me.”

He dropped his hand back down. “And it’s strange, that something about it feels familiar.”

“You keep coming back here to try and figure that out.” Oscar watched him closely. 

“I thought maybe if I recreated it in some way, it could open a door to any memory from before then. And also…..”

Oscar lifted his head a little to look at Tip’s face more. 

“If I could finally remember something, then maybe I could get you to talk to me.” Tip finally looked over at him. 

“Look-,” Oscar pushed himself up onto his elbows, “-I wasn’t trying to ignore you-”

“If I could talk to you about something personal to me, then maybe you would be more comfortable to do the same.” Tip cut him off. 

He pushed himself up onto his elbow as well, so they looked at each at equal height. “I have the luxury of not remembering my nightmares, making it easier to move on from them. But you don’t.”

Oscar let out a sigh, dropping back down onto his back. 

“I never meant to overstep any bounds.” Tip quickly said. “I just wanted to be able to do the same for you as you always do for me-”

“I lost my parents.”

Tip stopped, looking down at Oscar, who just stared up at the sky. 

“It’s obvious that they’re not around.” Oscar continued. “And not even any mention of them. I was surprised you never asked about them.” He tried to laugh. 

“It wasn’t really my place.” Tip folded his hands in his lap. “And the last time I asked questions about you, you didn’t want to answer them. So I chose to respect that.”

“But I was a jerk about it.” Oscar said. “And I didn’t really mean to.”

“I know.” 

They were both silent for a few moments. Trying to decide who would speak next. It was Tip.

“Is that what happened?” He asked, looking out in front of him. “You were dreaming of your parents?”

Oscar took a deep breath before answering. “Yeah….”

“I’m sorry.” Tip said. “I don’t have a family to remember right now, but I still know a bit how it hurts to not have them.”

“It was years ago.” Oscar sat up. “And I don’t get sad anymore when my Aunt mentions them.”

“But it  _ can  _ still hurt sometimes.” Tip said. “You shouldn’t feel like you have to hide that it does.”

“It’s always just been me and Auntie Em. Guess i’m just used to nobody seeing.” Oscar shrugged. 

“But she’s your family. And you can talk to her about anything.” Tip shifted so their shoulders were now touching, but backs still to each other. “I mean,” he chuckled low, “I consider you as not just a friend, but family. So you could talk about it to me.”

Oscar let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, sagging against the shoulder touching his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As said in the previous chapter, the source of Oscar's nightmares was to be revealed then. But with the way the writing flowed, I ended up creating this third part for the Interlude to wrap it up more nicely. 
> 
> Next chapter the time has come for Ozpin to regain his memories!~
> 
> Hope you enjoyed. Comments and feedback are always welcome!~

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> Comments and feedback are always welcome!


End file.
